under pressure, precious things can break
by i see the spark
Summary: Maybe Laura doesn't get it, maybe she never did – that he was much better at acting, than people gave him credit for. / Or the one where Laura fights off her insecurities, and Ross just doesn't get it. Ross/Laura. Raura.


_under pressure, precious things can break_

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**Summary:** Maybe Laura doesn't get it, maybe she never did – that he was much better at acting, than people gave him credit for. / Or the one where Laura fights off her insecurities, and Ross just doesn't get it.

**Prompt:** My over-growing annoyance with Raia, and thoughts on Laura's perspective of it all.

**A/N: **A huge thank you to my *cough* amazing *cough* friend Chloe for being so generous to upload this for me, even though it's 1AM in Australia and she has school. (No, she did not write this. Psh. What even.)

**Disclaimer:** Standard disclaimer applied.

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"Ross, what do you like about me?" She asks, leaning her head back on his lap, to look straight into his eyes.

"Hm, your beautiful brown hair, and matching brown eyes." He murmurs, running a hand through her soft curls.

"Really?" She raises an eyebrow, but he sees it as nothing but a lopsided pointed look.

"Yeah." He chuckles softly, bringing her hair closer to his face, inhaling in it's musty vanilla scent.

"Maia has all those things." Her eyes are now closed, so she doesn't see his soft and loving smile towards her.

"But I like it better on you."

**xoxo**

She's looking at the mirror, and she sees nothing but a girl with skin too pale, and tired glassy eyes. She wishes she could believe him, and she wishes she didn't see the things she saw.

She wishes her hair had more life to it, than this dusty and dull brown color. She wishes she couldn't obviously see the few extra pounds she's gained, and how the bags under her eyes has become a dainty purple hue.

Even though he tells her she's beautiful, she can't seem to ever believe it.

Maybe it's because of the countless of pictures he has with _her_, and the little amount of pictures she has with him. Or how her hair seemed to look more lively than what she has, and how her eyes seemed to glow. Or maybe, it's how, when he looks at Maia, there's a stare in his eyes that looks more contented, than how he would look at her.

Her heart starts to hurt. So she turns away from the mirror, and hides her face behind her hands. There are tears behind her hazel colored eyes, but they don't seem to spill. But she feels it. She feels the sting, and how it all threatens to flood out, but she'll never let it.

Because she's Laura Marano, and she's stronger than this.

So she puts on a warm and gentle smile – the smile everyone expects to see – and wipes those invisible tears away. She fixes up her heart with some glue and some duct tape, hoping it could temporarily hold on for now.

She thinks being jealous is normal, and she thinks all these insecurities will go away. She knows they can't forever promote _Teen Beach Movie_, so she's willing to give him up, let the other girl have her turn with him, just for awhile. But that doesn't mean she won't be taking him back, soon enough.

**xoxo**

"Laura, smile sweetie." A sleazy photographer urges at her, and she responds with a polite nod, whilst obliging to his request. "Tilt your head to the side, darling."

The way he becks at her, and the names he's calling her – it all makes her feel so uncomfortable. But she brushes it off because that's the classy kind of celebrity she is. And this is her profession, and it's what she's chosen.

But things would be much better, if only she couldn't see, right there at the corner of her eye, the way his arm is wrapped tightly around Maia's, and how he smiles so longingly when he turns to look at her.

She's snapped out of her thoughts by the sudden flash of camera. She's a little dazed and still a bit blinded, so the photographer gently pulls her to the side, and she doesn't even feel it.

Things at the event happened too fast and the next thing she knows she's the talk of Twitter, and the front cover of J14 magazine. The pictures snapped of her by that old sleaze of a photographer were not very flattering, and neither were they very classy.

The true fans, they stayed and backed her up. The rest all turned against her, calling her names like _slut_ and _whore_ and _attention-seeker_. Him? He was **disappointed**.

**xoxo**

She's made it a goal to be just as beautiful as one Maia Mitchell. So she tore up that stupid article, and bought herself a whole new set of clothes. She doesn't eat much anymore, and all the imperfection that marked her face has all been covered, hidden from the rest of the world.

She wears shorter clothes, and higher heels. She's finally got extensions on, and dyed her hair the color of Maia's hair. Her eyes, not brown enough, have been replaced with the artificial contacts.

She thinks she's getting there. He, on the other hand, thinks she's insane.

**xoxo**

"I see the way you look at her." She whispers one night to him. The make-up's all washed out, and her clothes are nothing but a pair of ripped shorts and his baggy tee.

"Like how?" He daringly asks her, his eyes swirling with the color of whiskey.

"Like you want something you can't have." She meekly replies.

He flips over the mahogany coffee table, and kicks all the chairs surrounding him. His fist connects with the rough, cemented wall, and the rest of his entire body is shaking.

"Goddammit Laura." He screams, more to himself than to her.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed until things got a little bit better than awkward. She's wrapping his bloody hand with a gauze, and he's staring blankly at her.

"You're an idiot." She would mutter.

"Not as big as you." He'd counter.

She knows what he means, and she takes it. Because honestly, it all really is her fault. It's the stupid insecurities, and the stupid voices in her head that say she's not, and never will be, good enough for him.

When she's done, he pulls her in, wrapping his strong and muscular arm over her fragile shoulder, and holds her as tightly as he possibly could. He places a small kiss on top of her head, and cries.

Because he's Ross Lynch, and he, undeniably, is not as strong as her.

**xoxo**

He doesn't get why she can't just believe in him when he tells her she's beautiful. Because she is, she really is.

He wonders about this as he poses for another photoshoot with Maia. He wraps his arms around her small neck, as he nuzzles his chin into the small dip of her collarbone. She chuckles a little and smiles into the camera.

He looks down on the girl before him, looking at her with a practiced loving look. The kind of look that took him forever to master, and the kind that seemed so real. Maybe Laura doesn't get it, maybe she never did – that he was much better at acting, than people gave him credit for.

**xoxo**

It's not her fault she doesn't believe in public displays of affections. She just feels it too vain, for people to go around, flaunting away their personal relationships.

Maybe if she let him hold her hand once in awhile, or let him give her small kisses on the cheek, he wouldn't be so _bored_ of their relationship. And maybe, if she let's people take more intimate pictures of them, he'd never get tired of her.

These are the times she wishes she wasn't such a private person. The kind that likes to keep their personal life separate, from all the fame, the glam, and the snapping pictures. She tries to loosen up, she really does. But her father is Damiano Marano.

And with the fact in mind, she gives up.

**xoxo**

"You're beautiful." His breathy whisper fans over her ear.

She's leaning against the buffet table, chewing away on cheese-powdered fries. Tonight, she decides, she'll forget about her stupid diet.

"Tell me more lies." She snips, her eyes rolling playfully as she watches him slide over to her side.

"It's the truth." His arm drops lazily over her shoulder. And she finds herself not minding the extra weight.

She doesn't respond to his comment. Instead, her eyes scan over the scene before her. She sees people dancing – _slow dancing_.

There at the corner, she sees her dad spin her mom gracefully, like the true italian gentleman that he is. And there at the other end of the hall, she sees Bridgit, laughing whilst she throws her head back, as Shane looks down on her with that gleam in his eyes. And then right at the middle of the dance floor, she sees, and understands _why_ Ross was wasting his time with her tonight.

There was Maia, with a beautiful white dress, and matching white heels, with her eyes closed, and head leaning down on Ramy's shoulder. The scene makes her slightly happy, yet completely bitter.

"I need to go." She mumbles out, before turning away to make a run for the door.

He doesn't let her. He'll never let her. Not again.

"Don't." He says, gripping tight her wrist and halting her movements. "Whatever you're thinking right now, you could be **dead** wrong about it."

"Ross." She sighs, turning to face him with a tired expression. "I have to go."

"No, no you don't." He shakes his head, pulling her towards him, making her head crash onto his rock hard chest. "You need to stay."

"I can't." She breathes out, heavily. Her head turns as she breaks eye contact with him.

"Laura, you're my girlfriend. Whatever these things you're thinking of, like me wanting to be with Maia over you, you gotta get that out your head, sweetie." Lifting her chin up, he forces her to look him in the eyes.

He sees just how broken she is, and it makes him wonder, why it took him this long to finally do something about it.

"You don't have to force yourself to like me." She mutters softly, and this makes him tighten his grip on her.

"Why." He seethes, eyes staring down on the ground, and his breathing heavy. "Why can't you see, how much you fucking mean to me?!"

"You—"

"No, Laura." Cutting her off, he drags her away, seeing as they're starting to attract unwanted attention.

They get to a secluded area, inside a very cramped closet. She keeps her mouth shut, waiting for the inevitable break-up she's long awaited – and dreaded.

"I hate," he breathes heavily before speaking again, "that you do this to yourself."

"Do what?" She tries to play dumb, but they both know it won't work on him.

"That you put down yourself so much that you get to the point where you start to doubt everything." He yells, hands flailing all over the place. "Even me."

This ticks her off.

"What, makes you think, you're so special?!" She tells him off, with that same force in her voice.

"I—"

"No, shut up for a moment, Ross." She snaps and this stuns him. But she doesn't care, and continues on. "Why do you think I can't doubt you, huh? Is it wrong for me to feel this way?! To feel jealous over the fact that I see my boyfriend so much happier with someone else than me?!"

"Laura, you know that's not true." Gently taking her shaking hands into his, he leans his forehead onto hers. "You know exactly how happy you make me."

There are tears in her eyes now. Tears she's been holding back for so long now.

"But the way you act around her, and every other girl, it just seems like you're tired of being with me." She chokes out in a litany of sobs and he can't help but turn away, tears trying to prick out of his own eyes.

"Don't ever think I'll ever get tired of you." His whole body shakes, and he holds onto her as if for support. "Because no one, no one can ever know, just exactly how you make me feel."

It's silent for a minute, and he opens his eyes to look at her, to really look at her through those thick lashes of his.

"Your smile. God, I love your smile. And the way you bite your tongue when you're really, very genuinely happy." His husky voice whispers, and his breath blows over her small button nose. "And when you laugh, and your nose scrunches in that cute and adorable way; you have no idea what it does to me."

"You really don't have to do this." She tells him, looking up into those deep brown eyes of his. Those kind eyes that meant every single word he says.

"But I do." He simply says. Lacing his fingers through hers, and playing with it, he goes on. "I do because I want you to know how much I love you, and these small, pale hands of yours, and these fingers that can perfectly fit between mine."

"Ross—"

"And your skin, God you're so pale. But then when your cheeks go rosy when I tease you, I love that. Because it's beautiful. You're so goddamn beautiful." Leaning onto her, he rests his head down into the crook of her neck, his lips barely touching her sensitive skin. "I can't even begin to explain how much your dorky personality gets me. And how when things are a mess, and I can't take anymore of all these crazy stuff that comes with fame, you smile and everything just gets that little bit much better."

She feels his hot breath, fanning softly against her neck. With each word his hold on her tightens, and she knows, that this is as vulnerable as Ross Lynch can get.

"You're worth so much and I hate that you let these stupid insecurities of yourself get to you and eat you up, until all your faith on yourself is gone." She lets a tear slip, and she chokes back a sob. His other free arm wraps itself around her waist. "It hurts."

Silence takes over and she feels a little deja vu coming their way. It's like that one time he cried to her before. Only, that time, she was the one trying to assure him that _he was good enough_ for her father. And that he did deserve her. More than she deserves him.

"I've never been good with words. But with you, it's different. I know exactly just what to say." He says after that quiet moment passes by.

"Just promise me one thing." She whispers, squeezing his hand, and rubbing his back.

"What?" He lazily murmurs, head still burrowed beneath her curls.

"You'll never let this girl, with so much insecurities, and unsure thoughts, drag you down." There's a slight pause as she waits for his response. He sighs slightly but she doesn't comment on it.

A minute later, he looks up to her, with a childish grin on his face, and sincere eyes that never fails to make her fall in love.

"That will never happen." And just like that, he crashes his lips onto her to save her from anymore hurtful words.

Their hot breaths mix and she's smiling through the kiss with closed eyes. Her hand grips tightly his shirt whilst the other one stayed put in his hold. He tastes strawberry gogurt, and licks cheesy powder off her lips, and she can tell he's smirking against her soft plums.

He melts away her fears and insecurities with that one kiss, and restores the almost lost faith she had on him.

"Thank you." She breathes out in between their heated make-out session.

"Anything for you."

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**A/N:** Chloe posted this. I wrote it though. But she wrote the A/N above. I have no words.


End file.
